


respite

by santanico



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santanico/pseuds/santanico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean goes through the motions of being a broke college student with a great boyfriend and a sort of weird relationship on the side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	respite

Occasionally, Dean tries to put words to his relationship with Meg. Even the word relationship doesn’t fit at all, because the typical image of one doesn’t make sense when Dean thinks about him and Meg. They’re not dating – Dean has Benny for that – and they’re not having sex. It’s almost professional except that it’s not – which is sort of hilarious, because Meg does what she does for Dean professionally as well.

It’s twisted. And a little confusing. Dean’s tried to plot it out on paper but he always has a hard time when he gets to the…stuff. The stuff that isn’t defined easily by a quick Internet search. The stuff that involves Meg handling him with her steel grip, leashing him to a headboard, prepping his face with eyeliner and soft shades of lipgloss that she no longer wears.

Dean licks his lips as he sits at his desk, hands poised over the keyboard. Google is open, but he got distracted and forgot what he was going to search for.

He fishes into his pocket and pulls out his phone, hitting the home key. The screen lights up but there aren’t any alerts, no new messages from Sam or concerned texts from Benny.

That much is a relief.

Dean rolls his head back and closes his laptop, standing and moving into the kitchen. He rummages through the refrigerator, looking for something to munch on and get his head out of the gutter, but he’s stone-cold broke and all that’s left, food wise, are some aging apples and bagels. He pulls out the package of bagels with only one missing – mold. It’s obvious they’re no good and Dean mutters a solemn “Fuck,” under his breath, opening the bottom cupboard next to the malfunctioning stove and throwing the bag into the trash.

He ends up eating an apple, but it isn’t very crisp and, as far as apples go, is pretty much a disappointment. He grabs a dirty glass from the sink, contemplates washing dishes so he can feel like less of a failure, and instead fills it up with water from the tap.

It’s not very cold so he opens the tiny freezer and pulls out an ice tray, snapping a couple of cubes loose. One falls on the floor. He rinses it in the sink for a short second and puts it in his glass anyway, sitting back down at his desk.

Dean’s guilty – nothing new – for getting in Benny’s way. It isn’t that he wants to live with Benny, per se, but rather that he doesn’t have a choice. After losing his (minimum wage) job at the local grocery store, Dean’s struggling even more catching up on paying his bills; and rent is due in three weeks, and if he doesn’t move out in the next week he’s fucked because he can’t afford rent for this shitty place, plus food, plus his monthly payment for school.

Even with his savings, he can barely scrap enough money together to live.

So it’s guilt or death, almost.

And it doesn’t help that Dean can’t stop thinking about calling Meg and begging her to let him visit her. She’s never been in his apartment, and he plans on keeping it that way.

-

Benny helps Dean carry his boxes of junk up the stairs and into his apartment. Dean is grateful and says thank you almost fifty times in the hour it takes for them to unload, drive back to Dean’s apartment, reload, and unload again. Truthfully, Dean doesn’t have many belongings, especially not ones that take up space. He sells his shitty TV at a pawnshop for fifteen dollars and donates his just as shitty furniture to a local place.

When Dean and Benny finally finish, Dean feels his chest constrict.

He’s jealous.

“Well, make yourself at home,” Benny says with a grin, touching Dean’s back comfortingly. He’s always been able to read Dean, since the first day they had their required geology course together, and Dean can’t deny that he’s grateful for that as well.

Benny knows about Meg, and vice versa, but it’s not something they talk about. It’s just something that Benny understands – and that he can’t provide – that doesn’t need much communication. Benny isn’t a control freak, like previous boyfriends Dean’s had, and he understands that Dean’s needs are met in strange places, some of which Benny can’t reach.

“I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t sound so sorrowful.” Benny’s tone is sincere, and he looks Dean straight in the eye. “You belong here. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Dean lets out a breath, nods.

“Got anything to eat?”

Benny’s face lights up with a grin. “Let’s go out and celebrate.”

-

Dean ends up calling Meg on a Saturday morning. She picks up on the second ring. “Hey.” She never gives much more of a response than that.

It isn’t that Dean’s not comfortable with Meg – she’s never made him feel unsafe, and she very clearly respects his boundaries – but she’s intimidating, and it’s hard enough to ask someone gentle and kind to do these kinds of things (and believe it that Dean had tried, and it had been embarrassing. Fortunately for Dean, hurdles like that made his bond with Benny stronger, where with other people it might be a breaking point).

“Are you free? This afternoon, maybe?”

Dean listens to the quiet buzz on the other end of the line. Meg doesn’t sigh or huff or do anything that would imply displeasure, and Dean’s happy about that.

“Yeah, sure. You wanna meet?”

“I think so.”

“I’m home right now?”

Dean checks his watch – it’s 12:30. Benny’s at work. Normally, he’d be at work too, but that’s what getting laid off does. The guilt churns in his stomach. Instead of making money he’s basically hooking up with a girl behind his boyfriend’s back.

Dean closes his eyes, tells himself no. He knows that’s not accurate, he knows there’s nothing to feel sorry for. 

“Okay. I’ll be over there by one. Is that cool?”

“That’s great.” Meg sounds genuinely interested. He can almost hear her pleased smirk on the other end. “See ya then, sweetheart.”

Dean shudders as the dial tone beeps, and grabs his coat as he leaves the apartment.

-

Meg has a silk scarf she uses specifically on Dean. There’s a lot of non-verbal communication at this point, head tilts and eyes that question. If they need clarification, they say it, but usually things work out smoothly. Despite the nerves Dean gets beforehand, it always feels like he’s getting a full-body stress-relieving massage when he’s with Meg.

She does his whole face today, has him sit at the vanity in her bedroom, hands tied behind his back with the scarf.

“Tilt your head up,” she murmurs, fingers on his chin as she applies mascara. Dean tries not to blink – eye make-up is always hell, especially eyeliner and mascara. “Good boy…” He tries not to move, twitching against an itch on his back. He’s unclothed besides jeans, and it’s fairly warm in Meg’s room. He’d fall asleep if he wasn’t so alert.

She uses everything at her disposal – liquid eyeliner done almost perfectly, thick mascara, dark eye shadows in brown that bring out the often dull green of Dean’s eyes. 

“Lipstick, lipstain, or lipsgloss?” she asks idly from the other side of her room, searching through make-up bags. Dean waits to see if she’s being hypothetical or actually asking. “Stain,” she decides after a short moment, and Dean’s glad he didn’t speak up.

She picks a red color and shows it to Dean but he doesn’t comment. The way she applies it to his mouth is carefully thought out, and she doesn’t waste a second or a single bit of the stain in the way she moves. Dean has to admit that he admires Meg, more than anything.

“Tada.”

Dean opens his eyes. His face feels heavy but there’s something about looking into the mirror and seeing a reflection that looks nothing like how he imagined himself for so many years. There’s nothing chiseled or tired about his features. There’s nothing sad, either, and his eyes look bright. Meg is smiling – well, if you could call that a smile – and looks proud of her work. 

“Is it alright if I go out and get myself some lunch? I can get you something if you like?”

It’s always a little jarring when Meg makes offers like that, but Dean just shakes his head, watching her stand up in the large vanity mirror. She brushes her hair over her shoulder and touches him on the shoulder.

“No, thanks,” Dean answers automatically. “Just untie me?”

This smile looks a little more legitimate, more amused, and she pulls the knot free of the silk scarf, tossing it on her bed.

“Well, you can still be here when I get back if you want, I don’t have any guests. But you can let yourself out, too. You know where to find my make-up remover.”

Meg never seems to mind that he simply wastes her tools for the sake of feeling good about himself. She never judges, never says anything, even if he only wants her to dress him up or do his lipstick and cover-up. 

They have an unspoken agreement of some sort.

As soon as the front door closes, Dean slides into the bathroom and begins to remove the layers of make-up from his face. Something unknots deep in his chest, and he’s happy about that.

-

Benny brings home pizza and two liters of Coke. It’s Dean’s favorite, half Alfredo instead of Marinara sauce and extra cheese, sausage and mushrooms.

They eat on the couch together, Benny’s arm casually around Dean’s shoulders. They’ve got a liter of the Coke on the coffee table and the TV on, set on a low volume so that the buzz accompanies their eating and casual bits of conversation.

Dean pours himself some more Coke and indulges in a third piece of pizza.

He glances over at Benny. “Thank you.”

Benny raises his eyebrows. “That’s unusual. You’re usually apologizing.”

Dean frowns and then scoffs, leaning back. “I don’t know,” he admits, setting down his pizza and reaching for a napkin. “I just think…I’m really happy you’re here, and that I’m with you.”

Benny hums, low in his throat. “You like the pizza is what you mean.”

Dean grins and jabs his elbow playfully into Benny’s stomach.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

Dean still doesn’t remember what he was going to Google the other day; but in retrospect, it feels a little silly. There are no immediate answers, and maybe time isn’t exactly ‘healing his wounds’ but Dean feels a little more secure. And every day – it gets better.


End file.
